


Noisy Pantsless Insomnia

by complexQuanta



Series: Sex Before You Sleep [1]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Domestic, Epilogue, M/M, Trollstuck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-02
Updated: 2013-12-02
Packaged: 2018-01-03 05:31:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1066334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/complexQuanta/pseuds/complexQuanta
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everyone is trolls, and Bro has trouble sleeping.  An early Christmas gift to Arathe, and a highly speculative sequel to her Walk Before You Run.</p><p>In the non-canon domesticity of the far future, there is only porn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Noisy Pantsless Insomnia

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Arathe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arathe/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Walk Before You Run](https://archiveofourown.org/works/871337) by [Arathe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arathe/pseuds/Arathe). 



> To Arathe. Thank you for your ceaseless encouragement, support, and willingness to listen. Merry Christmas, and I look forward to an exciting year ahead.

You’re woken by the scratch of claws on your foot as Dave shifts position against you.

Dave isn’t a quiet sleeper, and there’s nothing particularly unusual about this. You nuzzle a bit closer and inhale the warm, safe scent of the back of his neck. Your arm is already slung possessively around him, resting on his; sometimes you can be chiller about it, but in bed you always need to stake your claim.

He’s so _warm_. The heat of his bare back radiates on your chest. He has warmer blood than you do, which still seems like a weird thing to say, but on nights like this it’s all you could want. The rough-hewn cabin you managed to construct before winter is cold and drafty, but thanks to the alchemiter you at least have hella blankets.

Dave keeps shifting; your arm is slipped under his, and now that you’re more awake you can feel his arm moving, rhythmically, and -- really, Dave? Really? You can hear soft skin noises and little catches of breath.

Yuck.

“Dave?” you say quietly, letting your voice be sleepy.

His movement stops. You think he’s trying to decide whether he can pretend he was asleep, but eventually he replies with a clear voice. “Yeah, Bro?”

“Get your hand out of his pants.”

You hear John sigh melodramatically. You can just about see him roll his eyes. Maybe he thinks you’re being unreasonable when you ask him not to fuck your brother in the same bed you’re trying to sleep in. Good.

Dave says “Okay, sorry, no hands down the pants,” but he doesn’t move. You wait. They wait.

“Was there anything else, Mister Strider?” says John, a parody of the sweet and innocent child you used to think he was. You hate it when he calls you that. You wish he didn’t know how much you hate it when he calls you that.

You try to keep the exasperation out of your voice. “John, you’re not wearing pants, are you?”

“Oh, how silly of me!” says John. “Maybe I’m not. Dave, do you think you could help check?”

Dave’s arm begins moving again. “I’ll let you know if I find any down here.”

You pull your arm back from around Dave and give him a mild shove on the shoulder instead. “Cut it out.”

Dave huffs. “Come on, Bro, we’re not doing anything for me. And you and John are on opposite sides. You’re practically not even in the same bed as anything that’s happening.”

Sometimes it feels like a lifetime since you were human. Hell, for you, it was. But as different as your comfort zones are now, you’re not going to be under the same covers as your brother getting off your boyfriend. Kismesis. Whatever. “You two know the rules. No sex on the bed.” You and John always use the cot, so John and Dave can damn well use the cot.

John turns to face you, half-sitting up and pulling an arm over Dave. He glares at you. “Maybe you haven’t noticed, but it’s freezing out there.” You both know that Dave is the one who’ll really suffer, but somehow you can’t muster up very much sympathy.

You want to get this shit over with and get back to sleep. “I guess you two need some motivation, then.” With that, you yank all of the covers off of both of them. It’s almost a little too easy; John really should have seen it coming. John just sighs dramatically again, which you could really do without, but there’s a sharp intake of breath from Dave at the cold.

You get a particularly nice view of John, prissy and put-upon and frustrated, silhouetted nude against the moonlight as he gets out of bed. Unfortunately Dave is soon clinging to him, which makes the whole scene a lot less interesting. You turn your back on both of them as Dave hurries them over to the cot, which has a few ratty oft-laundered blankets of its own.

You don’t expect to have any trouble getting back to sleep. This is hardly the first time you’ve been in bed while they’re on the cot; Dave is always loud, but you don’t have any trouble tuning him out. You know, from what you remember of being human, that a few years ago hearing your brother’s sex noises would have weirded you out beyond all measure. Now that he’s your moirail, though, it’s more like hearing thunder, or birdcall. It’s hard for you to connect “Dave” and “sex” in the same thought, even if you can hear it happening.

As for John, you could listen for his breathing if you were feeling particularly creepy. Which sometimes you are, but not tonight. John is always quiet. He still isn’t entirely comfortable with being a troll, no matter how much you’ve tried to show him the upsides. Or maybe it predates that, and it’s just because he doesn’t know how to let go and get over himself. Whatever the reason, sex with John is usually a competition with yourself to try to get him to make noise. You’re running about 50/50 these days.

Dave’s desperate vocalizations and the sounds of their movements fade into the background. You close your eyes and figure with any luck you’ll be asleep before they finish.

And that’s when you hear some of the loudest, fakest, and most obviously overdone sex screaming that you’ve come across in years of pornography experience.

“Ah! Ah! AHHHH!!! D-DAVE!! Ahhhhhhhhhhhh!!”

What?

You hate yourself for it, but you turn back around, trying to be quiet, and look over at the cot. John is on top, moving rhythmically, but you’re the one he’s leering at. His moaning continues. “Dave! Ah ah ah ah ah ah!” He’s begun making noises in time with his movements. They’re still terribly overdone, but in your professional opinion they’re starting to sound less fake.

Dave’s words and noises continue apace; you know he’s fine with this. You’re sure he’s figured out that John is hamming it up for you, and you’re equally sure that he doesn’t mind. Dave has always needed to be the prettiest princess in the room, and he never minds you and John squabbling over him, even openly. One of the dangers of raising an only child, you guess. You’re pretty sure he plans these things sometimes.

Come to think of it, it might not have been an accident that they were making enough noise to wake you up. Was he just shifting position, or did he kick you on purpose? The little shit. Well, you’re awake now, no point in worrying about it. By this point you’re resigned to how Dave always has you wrapped around his little finger. You’ve seen too much of what could happen if you got free.

They keep going. John’s continuing to scream, moan, and yell Dave’s name, and it’s not sounding fake at all. You close your eyes and imagine John is yelling for you. You’ve wanted to be the one to make him make those noises. You’ve wanted him out of control for you.

Every time you manage to lose yourself in the fantasy, he yells Dave’s name.

Finally, finally, there is a crescendo of yelling from both of them, and the sound of a small amount of fluid hitting a bucket. If trolls do things regularly they don’t produce _that_ much more than humans, but buckets did make the cleanup a lot easier. And who were you to argue with a hundred thousand years of evolution telling you that jizzing into a bucket was fucking hot? At least with the buckets, both partners tended to finish at the same time; that’s one part of human sexual politics you’ll never miss.

Dave dives back into bed almost as soon as the sounds stop. He really does get cold. You carefully tuck the blankets around him, fix his pillow, and watch him slowly stop shivering. You spend a moment just looking at him, then pull back your own covers and stand up.

“Bro, come back to bed,” says Dave, sounding sleepy and sated.

The cold of the room around you can’t quite quench the heat in your body. “Gotta follow my own rules, dude.”

Dave rolls his eyes, sighs, and burrows deep under the covers.

You look over, and John is grinning at you impishly in the moonlight. He lazily begins licking red liquid from his fingers. “Can’t sleep, Mister Strider?”

You smile.


End file.
